Dreaming Orange
by BlueAngel137
Summary: Max and Logan try to go back to normal life after the events of BBWW, but fate intervenes, and both of them are repeatedly dragged back into their shared dream, unable to forget, unable to let go. ML obviously
1. Chapter 1

Timeframe: This story takes place a week after "Blah, Blah, Woof, Woof".

A/N: I don't own any DA character … just borrow them to have some fun. I tried my best to do OC and Sketchy justice, but I have no idea if I succeeded. Please, let me know what you think. Constructive criticism appreciated.

THANKS to Maria for the beta!

Hope you enjoy!

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**1. Drifting Off**

_Crash, Thursday Evening, about 9:30 p.m. _

The air in the crowded bar was sticky, filled with cigarette smoke and the faint odor of alcohol. Loud hip hop music was bawling from big loudspeakers, and neck-breaking stunts were displayed on an oversized screen. It was hot at Crash, and the place was even more crammed than normal.

Max and Original Cindy had managed to snatch two chairs at the wooden bar while Sketchy leaned against it, watching the stunt videos with enraptured attention, his left hand securely wrapped around a glass of beer.

"Damn, Normal pissed me off today," OC announced with a frown. She took a big gulp of the bitter tasting liquid that was far from the "Miller" it promised to be and then added with disdain. "Original Cindy brought a package to those Rydin Forties dudes in Clemson Street, and Normal had nothing better to do than to yell about gettin' a signature when OC was glad to have got outta there in one piece … without losin' her bike to some 10-year-olds with guns … that is."

Max grinned. "Guy probably doesn't even know what it looks like in those parts of town," she shrugged; at the same time making a mental note to take care of those dangerous rides in the future or at least offer back up.

It felt good to be with her friends after a long day at work. Weird enough, not even Normal had been able to get on her nerves today. Everything was fine as long as her thoughts were distracted from wandering back to Zack as he was dragged away, hands and feet secured with unbreakable steel chains … struggling … sacrificing his freedom for her … or back to that disturbing moment when she'd thought she had to leave Seattle … _and Logan_.

And the noisy bar was just the right place to prevent her from thinking, from drifting into that dream again…

_Dancing … being so close to Logan … feeling so good … protected_ …

"Guess Normal should take a bike and pedal through town once in a while," OC complained sourly. "What's the guy thinkin' we're doing out there? A good boss should care about his peeps."

"Uh-huuuh." Max nodded, trying to focus on her friend's words. She fought vehemently to keep her mind from slipping into that orange fog of soft touches and gentle movements … for the billionth time in the last seven days.

_They were dancing … his right hand tightly on the small of her back … holding her close. It felt so good, so right … as if they really belonged to each other._

_**Damn**_. What was it that kept her thinking about the dream? It was like a drug … _a dangerous drug … a dissembling sentimentality_. Max shook her head, willing the treacherous thoughts to vanish.

Suddenly a faint tremor touched her hands … ever so slightly … like a feather stroke, and her heart skipped a beat, her blood running cold. Her eyes grew wide until they focused on her friends again. _Get a grip, Max!_

"Yep." Sketchy finally tore his eyes away from the screen, a foolish grin plastered on his pale face. "Let's send Normal outta there into Rydin Forties territory, see if he comes back with his clothes on."

OC and Sketchy laughed and bumped fists, both of them well entertained by Sketchy's idea. Max forced a grin onto her lips. Her glance settled on the glass in front of her. She took a big gulp of her beer and concentrated on the bitter taste on her tongue, calculating how many glasses it would take to feel some tipsiness.

_Damn genes … damn Manticore … she wasn't even able to drown her misery._

OC's and Sketchy's attention shifted from their discussion about Normal's crankiness to a group of dark clad punks. One of them seemed about to start a fight, but unfortunately the guy was already tripping over his own feet, his sluggish words completely incomprehensible in the noisy bar. He just looked pathetic as he wildly waved about with his arms, held by one of his buddies; his face an ugly mask of alcohol drenched fury.

Max pursed her lips in disdain and directed her attention on her beer again, putting the glass back on the bar. _Maybe she didn't want to get wasted … not really_.

The orange brown liquid swirled around in the glass, softly drawing her in. Loud music was slowly replaced by slower rhythms … Sibelius – sad but nevertheless beautiful. It filled her senses, tuned out her surroundings.

_Max was stepping into a room that was bathed in soft orange-yellow light. Hundreds of tiny light bulbs were scattered about the room, decorating the window, cascading in chains down the white, lucent curtains. Max stared straight into a pair of intense green eyes, once again trapped in her dream that felt just too real. The distinct, male scent of Logan filled her nostrils, and it felt as if they were the only ones left on earth … no strings attached, neither Manticore nor Eyes Only lingering to pull them apart._

_Dance with me_.

_**I can't. **_

_Sure you can. Mind over matter. _

_**See, my problem is I can't walk. **_

_I'm not asking you to walk. Just dance. _

_Finally giving in to her soft demands, Logan stood up, pushing the wheelchair away. Easily. The chair had never mattered to her and now it was out of the way for good, dissolved into orange glimmering air. Finally. _

_She'd almost forgotten how tall he was. And now he looked down on her, his hair spiky, a hint of half-day-old whiskers on his chin … and sexy as hell._

Her food connected with the leg of her chair … **THUD **… and Max was quickly pushed back into the real world, loud music crashing down on her. She felt another slight tremor of her hands, just a tiny notch stronger than before. It left her helpless and scared, unable to ignore the approach of a seizure. The faint pressure of a headache began to form at the back of her head, throbbing, a dark forebode of the pain that would soon rage through her body.

Eyes wide … dark and troubled, Max looked up, only to meet OC's concerned glance.

"You okay?" her friend asked softly.

Max slowly shook her head. She tried to smile, but failed miserably and finally admitted with a small shrug: "Maybe I caught the flu or something. I gotta jet."

Two pairs of eyes where now attentively directed at Max, and OC offered, "I can take you home, boo. You really look kinda pale."

"No, I'll be fine … but thanks." Max placed a five dollar note under the now almost empty pitcher and then put on her leather jacket. "See you at work tomorrow."

A strained smile graced her features as she waved her friends good-bye, hurrying to leave the bar. She fought desperately to keep her gait steady and the shivers under control.

_Damn morons at Manticore_, she cursed inwardly. _Wannabe scientists … charlatans … creating perfect soldiers … pah … I'm just defect merchandise … Even Lydecker said we're flawed._ She shook her head, willing all thoughts of Manticore to vanish. Too soon would they fill her completely and drag her back into a gray world of coldness.

Max opened the door. She quickly exited Crash and mounted her bike, glad about the cool night air that cleared her senses. An emergency package of Tryptophan was always in the inside pocket of her jacket, and with a soft sigh of relief Max took a small handful of pills. Fear seeped through the core of her being. She had to get home and she had to get there fast. Without so much as a backward glance she took off as fast as she dared, praying that she would reach home before the next wave of seizures hit.

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_Fogle tower, same evening, 10:20 p.m._

The penthouse apartment was sparsely lit and almost completely silent. Only the soft humming of electronic devices was audible, and now and then the fast clattering noise of keys interrupted the quietness as the keyboard got attacked by long, elegant fingers in a desperate sense of urgency. As usually, Logan sat in front of his monitors, apparently intently looking at the information that popped up on the different screens, seemingly concentrated on his latest Eyes Only victim, a major bad guy named Gerhard Bronck. Oddly enough his normally so focused mind kept drifting off into an ocean of orange, filled with soft music and warm light.

… _Max looked so gorgeous … like a fairy, clad in a beautiful, white gown, her pearl earrings and necklace sparkling. Her dark hair was pinned up at the back of hair head, only some strands framing her face and covering her neck. _

_He felt lightheaded and as if he'd been freed from all restraints. The chair wasn't important any more. It had been easy to push it away. Anything and everything was possible. He just wanted to be close to her, hold her … it was the only thing that mattered. Deep inside he knew it was a dream, it had to be, but he didn't care. Never waking up again? Fine with him._

_Max looked up, dark eyes shining. She'd asked him to dance with her, her soft voice compelling. Now she lifted her left hand in an inviting gesture and again Logan was struck by her supernatural beauty. She took his breath away. He wasn't able to resist … didn't want to resist. And finally he stepped forward, bridging the gap between them._

_**Whose dream is this, anyway? Yours or mine? **_

_Logan had to ask, he had to know._

_He felt Max's hand on his shoulder, warm and soft. Their fingertips met and a faint smile touched her lips._

_Don't ask me. … _

His computer beeped, announcing that an important message had reached the inbox. He had to concentrate, Logan told himself again and again. There where important things on his to-do list; emails needed to be answered, informants had to be contacted. But when he finally managed to detach himself from the spell, it just took a few minutes until either the dream or Max's desperate kiss haunted him again … for the billionth time in the last seven days.

_Her eyes had been a pool of sadness and desperation, reflecting his own feelings when he thought he'd lost her. She was about to leave Seattle (and him!) and only God knew if she was ever coming back. _

_After she'd left the car, taking every bit of warmth with her, Logan had felt so lost … so empty and miserable. But Max had come back, had suddenly pressed her warm lips onto his; taking his breath away, and within a split second she had catapulted him into heaven. _

_The kiss had seemed to take forever. He'd held her head with both hands, had kissed her back with silent urgency, never to let go again. And it had felt so good, so right … as if they really belonged to each other._

A rattling noise suddenly demanded his attention, cruelly pushing him back into reality again. Logan turned the chair with determined force, his heart suddenly beating out of his chest.

The apartment was way too dark, he realized, as he left the "holy room" to search for the source of the noise, a small gun placed in his lap. Worst case scenarios hovered through his mind.

"Hello?" Logan's deep voice echoed through the silence as he pushed himself through the empty living area. No answer was provided, and the soft noise of rubber wheels on the hardwood floor seemed suddenly unnaturally loud. Logan cursed the chair. Coldness crawled up his spine. _Don't panic_, he told himself and took a deep, steadying breath, reaching the front door where he finally found the intruder.

His throat tightened and all of his senses sharpened. Lying there on the threshold in a black, shaking heap was his personal cat burglar, the one person that had prevented his death just seven days ago, the person that had so frequently followed him into his dreams … _his angel_.

"Oh my God, Max," he whispered.

TBC

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**Even a short review will make my day!**


	2. Savior

A/N: The Dark Angel universe still belongs to someone else, no infringement intended.

Sorry, it took me so long. I can only offer some lame excuses but (as always) I promise improvement. ;-) Thanks for all your great reviews for chapter one! You guys seriously rock!!

And a huge bear-hug to Maria for the beta. Thanks, boo!

Hope you enjoy!

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**2. Savior **

Deep concern was etched into Logan's features as he bent over the beautiful dark haired girl, now bedded on his sofa. He held one of Max's hands, stroking her palm with his thumb. "It's going to be alright," he murmured softly, hoping against hope it would really be, cold fear reaching with icy fingers for the core of his soul.

This seizure would pass, sure. Everything was going to go back to normal for Max, eventually, at least for a couple of weeks or even months. _And then?_ They had to do something! _(He had to do something!) _He couldn't bear the thought that Max never got the chance to leave Manticore behind for good. And he didn't even know if those seizures weren't going to get worse one day or if the seizures would get Max in a moment when she couldn't afford being slowed down by physical weakness.

Max was pale, incredibly pale. Some strands of her dark hair framed her face, sticking damply to her skin. Her violent seizures had eased a bit, turning into weak quivers, showing how exhausted she was. And it hurt him almost physically to see the strong, vibrant girl so weak.

Max had cracked her eyelids open about half an hour ago, squinting into the soft candlelight, shaking violently. Strong emotions had been reflected in her eyes: fear, confusion and pure relief when she'd finally recognized him. She'd whispered his name as if he was her savior, her dark eyes closing again, a tiny tear escaping the corner of her eye. Then she'd drifted off into her own world again.

"You are safe here." Logan's voice sounded soothing, convincing.

He could see the rapid movement of Max's eyes behind closed lids, and somehow he knew instinctively that he had to keep talking. He told her about the breakfast he'd prepare for them in the morning, when she got better; he described every ingredient, every detail, his voice sounding like rain drumming softly, steadily on the rooftop.

He wouldn't let Manticore drag her away in one of those seizure induced flashbacks!

_Max has come to me for help_, Logan thought, a warm feeling building in the pit of his stomach. She trusted him enough to show her weakness, turned to him for protection. A wry smile crossed his face. _And she knows I have always a stack of Tryptophan handy and a bottle of milk in my fridge … especially after Cindy and Kendra had gotten rid of her meds and had unknowingly landed her in Langford three months ago. _

The hackles on the back of his neck rose as he thought about the fiasco. It had been a close call. They'd had to smuggle Tryptophan into the prison, and Lydecker had suddenly busted in full force, his men crawling all over the place …

Deep inside him Logan knew Max trusted him. She'd begged him to stay with her during her last seizure. The tough smart-mouthed ex-super-soldier had been gone then, showing the hurt 19-year old girl inside. He couldn't even begin to imagine how helpless she felt during a seizure, how frightened she was when her past suddenly caught up with her, how much pain she had to endure.

… _Logan … don't leave me_ … she'd pleaded in his dream, touching his soul.

"I thought a lot of you lately," Logan suddenly admitted with a faint smile, tracing her hairline with the tip of his index finger, wondering how he could dare to confess something like this, even if Max wasn't able to hear him. (_Or was she?_) A soft blush crept over his cheeks and he unconsciously rubbed his right hand over the back of his head, his left still holding Max's hand. His green eyes shone with intensity, and despite his embarrassment he added: "There's this dream … that feels just so real …"

Logan exhaled the air in a rush. He couldn't help but feel stupid, telling Max about the dream. They weren't "like this" after all. They'd drawn this invisible line, and it was essential they didn't overstep it. _**Wasn't it?**_ Their "quid pro quo" was what held them together – he helped her locate her siblings and Max … Max risked her neck for him in his Eyes Only crusade.

_Not exactly something to keep her safe_, Logan thought guiltily, his eyes taking in the beautiful face in front of him, the sudden urge to protect the girl awaking inside him.

_Knight in shining armor – yeah, right_, Logan thought. _It's more like guy in a wheelchair, trying to save the world. And Max? She is an X5, a genetically engineered super-soldier. She doesn't need your protection._

_But at the moment she does_, a stubborn voice inside him insisted. Logan shook his head, not willing to deal with this tonight. He stroked her forehead, noticing with a start how hot her skin felt.

"Whenever there's a quiet moment the dream seems to lure me in," he carried on. He couldn't seem to stop.

"Everything is tinted in warm, orange light and 'Sibelius' plays in the background. There are tiny light bulbs scattered about the room, and you … you wear this beautiful white evening gown." He smiled softly, feeling himself slip out of reality, again. Time drifted away, unnoticed, as Logan let himself be captured by a world of orange.

…

_**Damn**_, he thought with a start, not sure how much time had passed. Seconds? Minutes? He forced himself to focus. Max needed him! He wasn't going to let her down.

Logan noticed that her slight tremors were changing into more violent seizures again.

"I'm sorry, Max." His voice was raspy now, tinged with emotion. "I just hope we'll find something to get rid of those damn seizures." He felt her grip around his hand tighten and whispered: "Just hold on. It's gonna be alright … I promise."

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_Max felt weak, incredibly weak. Her legs were as heavy as sandbags and her knees felt like rubber. Each step was a new challenge and as much as she pushed herself, she didn't seem to move. She was marching uphill through knee-deep mud. Each tiring step was followed b__y a gurgling noise. Gunfire sounded behind her, and she could hear awful cries in the distance._

_**Up … up … up**__ …, an insistent voice inside her dragged her forward, and she could do nothing but obey and put one quivering foot in front of the other. She was breathing heavily and her heart was beating out of her chest, cold sweat forming on her forehead. Every muscle inside of her protested against the movement, arms and legs burning in exhaustion. But still, she knew, she couldn't allow herself to stop._

_Glimmering orange light was shining enticingly on top of that apparently invincible mountain. That's what kept her going … and the cold, all consuming fear of the darkness that lingered below, licking with an eager tongue for her, reaching out with its bony fingers._

"_**No"**__, she screamed and stumbled forward. Her whole body was now shaking violently as a new wave of seizures hit, her pace changing into wobbly staggering. An icy breath of wind met the back of her neck. It smelled rotten. She had to hurry. __**Up … up … up!**__ –Into safety, where the orange light glimmered, and where a soft voice was calling for her … away from darkness and condemnation._

"_Coward, traitor, deserter," a cold voice whispered behind her, and once again the rotten smell met her sensitive nose. Max wanted to clasp her hands over her ears, but she couldn't. She needed them to keep her balance, to grab a brush when she was struggling and to steady herself when she reached one of the rocks that were scattered like obstacles on her way upwards._

_Why was everything so gray? Had so many rocks blocked her way before? _

_Her heart seemed to drop._

"_You'll never leave Manticore behind, 452," the voice was back again, rattling through the cold air like gunfire. "We've ways to treat your seizures," the voice was carrying on, ingratiating now, filling her head. "You can always come home."_

_An icy chill crawled through her body._

_**Up, up, up**__ … Max wanted to run. She couldn't give in. But the way seemed endless, the morass weakening her with every step she took, the steep ascent slowing her down. Max clenched her teeth. She used the yellow-gray wisps of grass and weeds to drag herself out of the mud. Her shoes and jeans were wet and dirty, and her fingernails were already splintered. _

"**It's going to be alright,"** _a soft voice told her from the top of the mountain. _

_Max tilted her head. The heaviness of her legs eased a bit and she managed a few fast steps upward, warmth spreading out inside her. __**UP, up, up**__, her mind yelled at her. The orange light was waiting for her … and the voice … (she knew that voice)._

"**You are safe here,"** _it now promised soothingly._

_A few rocks that seemed to have blocked her way upward miraculously vanished, and the ground got a bit harder. New energy pulsated through her. And the voice was still echoing through her head, dragging her forward like an invisible rope. The first rays of light met her face, and Max breathed a silent sigh of relief. She just had to keep walking._

"**I thought a lot of you lately," **_the voice made her dizzy. She wanted to contain those words, wanted to stash them somewhere in a secret corner of her mind. Max urged the voice to keep talking. She longed desperately for the next words, and finally it spoke again: _**"There's this dream … that feels just so real …" **

_**The dream**__ … yeah … she knew about the dream. Max felt a soft smile touch the corners of her mouth. They'd been so close … dancing … and all this orange light had been glimmering about them. _

_She had to lie down for a moment she decided, when a new bundle of warm light met her face. She just wanted to make sure she didn't miss a single word the voice was saying. _

"**Whenever there's a quiet moment the dream seems to lure me in,"** _the soft voice carried on_, _enveloping her like a protecting blanket._

_The earth beneath her was dry now, the grass creating a comfortable bed for her. It felt good to stretch her hurting legs, orange light tickling the tip of her nose. Birds were chirping in the distance and the steady hum of bees filled her head until the voice pushed every other noise aside … easily._

"**Everything is ti****nted in warm, orange light and 'Sibelius' plays in the background … there are tiny light bulbs scattered about the room, and you … you wear this beautiful white evening gown … " **

_Max could hear the smile that accompanied the voice. She could see the scene quite clearly in front of her inner eye, and slowly the dream began to lure her in. She felt so relaxed, so tired. Never waking up again? Fine with her. _

_But a small, dutiful part inside of her knew that she had to get up. She couldn't afford dreaming. __**Up, up, up,**__ the annoying part of her urged, trying to drag her up._

_And suddenly a first whisper of cool air met the back of her neck. Max shivered, her eyes snapping open again. The orange shine was gone. Only gray twilight remained. The birds had fallen silent and everything seemed lifeless and deserted. Dark clouds covered the sky, and the temperature was dropping within seconds to a freezing coldness._

_Max jumped up, her throat dry. Fear was crawling through her, and she shivered again, teeth clattering. _

"_**You are a soldier,"**__ the cold, rough voice was back again. "__**Fear accomplishes nothing!"**_

_Max swiveled around, dropping into a fighting stance._

_The scenery had changed again. Snow was covering the ground and dark firs surrounded her. Gunfire sounded in the distance, and the loud hum of snowmobiles approached. The last bit of light had been sucked up by an all consuming darkness. _

_Max's heart was hammering against her ribcage. After a few long seconds she loosened her stance and turned around. Her bare feet were almost numb from the snow, and the hum of the snowmobiles got dangerously close. Here and there a stream of their headlights already penetrated the darkness. And finally Max started to run. She blurred from one tree to the next and tried to avoid bigger clearings. _

_She was fast. But the noise behind her got louder with every elapsing second. The rotten smell threatened to take her breath, and once again exhaustion overwhelmed her. Dogs barked in the distance and angry orders were yelled._

_She had to run. Wasn't there a tiny beam of orange light in the distance? _

_And suddenly the woods cleared. Max was moving in a zigzag now, mobilizing all of her strength, crossing the dangerous area at impossible speed. She needed some kind of cover … and she needed it fast! Tiny light points already drew a wobbly pattern on the white blanket of snow that covered the ground._

_**Hurry up, Max!**__ The girl thought wildly. _

_And abruptly a loud crack echoed through the air, silencing every other noise. Time screeched to a halt. _

_Max felt herself falling__ … like in slow motion._

_**Nooooo!**_

_She crashed through the ice into icy cold water._

_**Nooooo!**_

_This couldn't happen – again!_

_Max closed her eyes. She tried to steady her racing heartbeat, fought to block out the numbing coldness. _

_**There are no limits. What the mind can conceive, the body can achieve**__, her former mentor's voice told her with conviction._

"**Just hold on. It's gonna be alright … I promise." **_Logan's voice chimed in ... softly …soothingly._

_Max opened her eyes again and noticed two men above her, both reaching out a hand through the cracked ice to save her._

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**Reviews greatly appreciated! :-)**


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